User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Redwall Wars: A Deadly Turn/@comment-7662967-20150401232532/@comment-2246928-20150403171245

The old otter's eyes roved over the wildcat for a moment, almost sadly, and spoke, softly.

"Mate, yore about as dumb as a hunk o' barnacle when it comes ter survival while livin' under th' whim of a slaver. But that don't mean y' won't break outta these chains an' grind their skulls under yore footpaw. We're goin' to escape."

At that moment, a strange creature emerged from the upperdecks, holding a lantern up as its dark, fertile little eyes scanned the slaves. It could not have been much larger than a mole, but it was bound in robes and a cloak, rendering it impossible to know who it really was. A curved sword hung from its side, alongside an evilly barbed whip. This was no friend of slaves.

"Azooly... Dore-yen Stroikeclaw... Ragurrog...Wurr bee they? Speak, boi goomby 'n' tatersnack!"